


Broken Minds

by ouzmanscribbles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, M/M, Minor Keith/Lance (Voltron), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-08 22:53:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouzmanscribbles/pseuds/ouzmanscribbles
Summary: It had started out as something small.Avoiding fatty foods, weighing himself and exercising seemed harmless enough to Matt’s parents. Perhaps he just wants to get a bit more muscle, they thought. Their son had always been a bit scrawny and slightly insecure, so they didn’t question him when his eating habits changed. However, it didn’t take long for Matt’s little diet to spiral out of control, and escalate into something life threatening.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Wow, my first fic on AO3... well, I hope you enjoy it, I suppose! Updates will be random, I apologise, but hopefully frequent. If you want to be notified when I do update, follow me on Instagram - @shattmotherfuckers - and turn on post notifications! Whenever I update, I'll let you know on there!

It had started out as something small.  
Avoiding fatty foods, weighing himself and exercising seemed harmless enough to Matt’s parents. Perhaps he just wants to get a bit more muscle, they thought. Their son had always been a bit scrawny and slightly insecure, so they didn’t question him when his eating habits changed. However, it didn’t take long for Matt’s little diet to spiral out of control, and escalate into something life threatening.  
\------------------------  
Endless miles of countryside whizzed past the car window, music playing softly through the stereo and the sound of the Holt parents mumbling to each other stayed underneath it all. Probably because it was about Matt, and they didn’t want him to hear the comments they made about their sons appearance or health. Although, it was a fruitless effort, he knew they were concerned. After all, they were taking him to a home for ‘challenged teens’ to stay for six weeks and improve his appetite and well-being. Over the grassy hills, said house came into view.  
It was tall, with turreted roofs and two castle like towers framing the main building; vines climbed up the sides, contrasting perfectly with the worn away Victorian aesthetic that the house gave off. The number of windows seemed absurd, though they were all framed with the same off white stone. Matt could imagine some sort of handsome aristocrat living there in the eighteen hundreds, studying Latin and counting his shillings. It seemed perfect for someone like him, who was obsessed with History, especially the Victorian Era. He knew so many strange facts, like the high concentration of arsenic in the favourable green wallpaper made it deadly, and killed many people back when they plastered their walls with it. If he was coming here for any other reason than he was at the threshold of deaths door, he’d be overwhelmed with excitement.  
Gravel crunched under the tyres of the family car as they pulled up to the front of the house, parking in an empty space – not that there were any full ones – and stepping out. Waiting at the door were two people, who quickly caught Matt’s attention. The first was a woman. She had dark skin, long white hair, and bright blue eyes; her expression was kind, and her clothes gave off a professional vibe - a collared white shirt, with a black jumper over top, white trousers and grey pumps. She’s the head of the house then, Matt thought to himself. While he could admit she was extremely pretty, the other person caught his attention more. It was a man, a red head with a large bushy moustache and an eccentric personality. The clothes he wore were mismatched, and you had to look away after a while. All the neon colours that clearly didn’t fit together hurt Matt’s eyes.  
The woman stepped forward and thrust out her hand, “Hello! My name is Allura, I’m the head of Lion House!” she said, as Matt gingerly took her hand. He glanced down, his hands looked like a skeletons next to hers, and while he found some discomfort in that, he tried to ignore it.  
“I’m Matt...” he mumbled, pulling his hand away and stuffing it in his pocket uncomfortably. He didn’t particularly like social situations with people above his age, it made him fell small and powerless. Turning back to the car, he locked eyes with his younger sister, Katie, who was lifting his suitcase out of the boot. Hauling it over, she pushed it into her older brothers hands and hugged him tightly,  
“I’ll see you soon, and you better have your old belly fat,” she whispered, glancing up at Matt, “There’s barely anything left of you to hug...” That sentence tore a piece of Matt’s heart out, and it was then he decided to try his hardest to eat a little more. If not for himself, for his little sister who he adored to no end. His parents headed over as well and engulfed him in a hug, a kiss planted atop his head from both of them and reassuring words exchanged. Stepping away, they all smiled and piled back into the car, leaving Matt to be escorted into the house, a hand on the small of his back.  
\------------------------  
The inside of the house seemed even larger than the outside, the layout also seemed far too complicated for Matt’s brain. There was an entrance hallway, decorated with numerous landscape paintings, some of forests, beaches, and beautiful fields teeming with wildlife. The carpet was a rich red, patterned with gold accents, that transitioned into a deep blue carpet for the main room. There were two large windows in the front, curtains with the same shade of blue draping over them, pulled out of the way with a rope. There were also three big, velvet sofas and a comfy looking accent chair. Allura walked towards the corner of the room and tugged harshly on a bell pull, causing a loud ringing to echo through the house; kids around Matt’s age slowly emerged from their hiding spots, screeching, yawning, and just looking plain bored.  
The two that showed up first were a Cuban boy and, he guessed, his boyfriend, who sported a mullet. Classy, Matt thought, letting a small chuckle escape as the two sat on one of the sofas. Next to appear was a grumpy, purple headed guy who – for reasons that escaped him – wore full on yellow contact lenses. He took the accent chair, probably preferring to sit on his own from his appearance and the way he carried himself. The last to arrive was a well built guy, who Matt could hardly believe was a teenager. His hair was styled in an undercut, with a white tuft at the front; across his nose was a pink, jagged scar, that probably had some sad backstory. Noticing Matt, Mysterious Muscle Man shot him a kind smile before sitting himself beside Mullet and Cuban. Taking a seat himself, he mentally prepared for some sort of introduction to these people. He didn’t intend on making friends, so introductions seemed trivial at this point – no one would even want to go anywhere near him.  
At least, that’s what Matt thought.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, as you may have noticed, we have a new member to our group!” Allura chirped, her voice oozing fake optimism and excitement. Across the room, the purple headed guy let out a dark laugh,  
“Oh? I thought there was a skeleton propped up on the sofa...” he snarled, causing Matt’s face to heat up and his stomach to knot. He could already tell there’d be a mutual lack of respect between the two of them, and quickly decided he would not let himself be bullied into submission and walked all over. Allura cleared her throat again, piercing the awkward silence,  
“Zak, no comments please,” she instructed, her tone stern, “Now, as I was saying. We have a new member. Would you like to introduce yourself to everyone?” Everyone’s eyes settled on Matt, waiting for him to speak.  
“Um... I’m Matt... I’m seventeen... and I don’t want to be here.” He said with a fake look of boredom to mask the storm of anxiety brewing in his stomach, climbing it’s way to his lungs and constricting them. It wasn’t until Coran spoke - diverting everyone's attention away from Matt – that the anxiety lessened. Although, Mysterious Muscle Man kept throwing glances his way, scanning his arms, hands, and face. Not surprising, he got that a lot anyways.  
“Alrighty, Matt, we’ll leave you to Shiro,” he motioned towards Mysterious Muscle Man, “He’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping, and will explain the rules of the house. Now! Off you chop guys!” he said with a smile, before disappearing into the seemingly endless halls, Allura by his side. Mullet and Cuban followed swiftly behind, and Matt just about caught Cuban smacking Mullet on the ass; in fact, he was so distracted by the over the top public display of affection, that he didn’t notice Shiro walking over.  
“Hey, Matt. I’m Takashi, but people just call me Shiro,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, “Come on, let me show you your room. You have to share with me, apologies.” Matt rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly, standing up, he might as well have one ally in this place,  
“What a disappointment. I wanted to be roommates with Zak, he’s such a ray of sunshine after all.” He commented, glancing over at said ‘ray of sunshine’, who was listening to music and shooting disgusted glances over at the pair. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Eager to escape, Shiro led Matt quickly up the grand looking stairs, beginning a conversation.  
“Right, first thing you should know is to avoid the second floor at all costs. That’s where Keith and Lance’s room is, and boy, they’re... energetic?” he said, turning and walking into the first room on the right, “Basically they have a lot of sex, there’s bodily fluids everywhere.” Matt faked a gag and followed closely behind Shiro, stealthily appreciating his... uh... back muscles? Yeaaahhh... back muscles. Glancing to the side, he noticed Coran had brought his suitcase up and laid it on what must be his bed, seems they were very hospitable here... Shiro began to speak again, catching Matt’s attention – his voice was... soothing in a way,  
“Now, I won’t bore you with a long winded explanation, however it is important you know how things work. There are no doors so you can’t stealthily do anything harmful. Bathrooms are locked for half an hour after mealtimes, to prevent you and Keith throwing up. You can have whatever you want to eat, too.” Matt, who had been meticulously unpacking his assortment of unfashionable geek merchandise and now oversized jumpers, glanced up,  
“Bathrooms are locked? What about the windows?” He asked teasingly, pushing the suitcase underneath the bed. All he got was a concerned look, almost as if Shiro was his Dad,  
“Hey, I know I shouldn’t even be offering my opinion on your health, we’ve barely crossed the border of acquaintances, but you shouldn’t do that kind of stuff. Keith had, well he still has, the same problem... he’s better now but... damn, you look like a fucking ghost.” He said, tone softening. Matt lowered his head in shame, he knew he was teetering on the edge of a bodily shutdown – however he couldn’t resist the urge. Eating food and digesting it always felt so wrong, like there was a weight of guilt hanging off every piece of food and the only way to relieve the guilt was to bring it back up, or... there was always laxatives. Not that he’d admit he ever used them. Sitting himself cross legged on the bed, he looked up and shrugged half-heartedly,  
“I’m guessing Keith’s the skinny one with the mullet?” he asked, eliciting a nod. So, he wasn’t the only one here with weight issues. “What are you locked up here for?” Shiro hummed, sitting on his own bed a few feet across the room,  
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder coupled with physical therapy for my arm. I was... in a car accident. Drunk driver, almost lost his life,” he admitted, looking over at car keys, which seemingly had been collecting dust for some time, “I feel guilty, even though I wasn’t in the wrong. But, I suppose that’s just my personality...” Masking his pain with a forced chuckle, the conversation clearly came to an awkward and abrupt end. Thankfully, Cuban turned up at the bedroom door to cut the awkwardness, fly very obviously done up hastily and buttons of his shirt in all the wrong places. Charming.  
“Hey guys! Lunch is in five! Hunk’s making his famous chicken salad sandwiches!!” he said, before running down the stairs hastily, Keith following slowly behind, a small limp in his step as he whined about the pain. Shiro turned to Matt, a small smile creeping onto his face that said, ‘I told you so.’


	3. Chapter 3

Matt followed Shiro through the hallways until they arrived in the dining room. There was a large, dark wood table, polished carefully to the point where you could easily see your reflection – almost like a mirror. He vigilantly tried to avoid his own gaze, sitting beside his new roommate with Cuban on his other side. Each place at the table had been set with a placemat, plate and a glass of water. In the middle of the table on a silver platter were the aforementioned sandwiches; everyone was already loading their plates with crap, and the mere idea of how many calories there were sent Matt into a small panic. Slinking down in his chair, he tried to make himself as small as possible, pun intended, and avoid eye contact.  
Shiro, on the other hand, along with Cuban – who’s name turned out to be Lance – and Keith, all loaded up their plates with mountains of food. He watched, awestruck, until Keith gently elbowed him in the side,  
“You not gonna eat?” he asked, motioning to the sandwiches. Jumping out of his trance-like state, he turned to his neighbour; he shook his head,  
“Nah... I’m okay... I ate this morning...” he lied, and Keith obviously noticed. It was then he remembered that once, Keith had been like him, scared of gaining weight. He wondered how he’d managed to break free of the disorders restraints, and if he could help him escape too. Keith placed a small bunch of grapes onto Matt’s plate, and put a hand on his shoulder, although he was gentle. As if he believed he could snap him in two if he pressed too hard,  
“Eat those at least, not too many calories. I promise,” he took a bite of his sandwich before whispering, “Plus, between you and I, tube feeding is not fun.” Matt chuckled, nodding in agreement. Looking down at the fruit that had been placed in front of him; he took one of the smaller grapes and placed it in his mouth, slowly chewing for seemingly forever until the courage built up, allowing him to swallow.  
The chit-chat was light, if not non-existent. Matt attributed it to his presence, they’d only had a small introduction, and even so the only person he’d had an actual conversation with was Shiro – the equivalent of a human teddy bear in an athletes body. The few words exchanged between him and Keith weren’t enough, and Allura hardly counted considering she was the ‘adult’ of the house.  
Across the table, Zak kept throwing dirty glances towards him, alternating between looking disgusted and looking slightly aroused. As if the insults from earlier weren’t enough, now he had to deal with his eyes boring into him no matter how much he avoided his gaze or stared back. There was already tension between the pair, and they hadn’t even had a conversation or known each other for over three hours. Wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the long wait, I had a bit of a blank recently but I'm getting back into the swing of things! Next chapter will be twice as long to make up for this short one!


	4. Chapter 4

Lunch was over rather quickly, at least that’s what it seemed compared to family dinners back at the Holt residence – full of his family trying to force food down his throat. It was never a pleasant time, the air always thick with unwanted tension; the only sound piercing it were the sounds of the cutlery hitting the china plates, and glasses being placed back onto the wooden table. There was a similar atmosphere to this meal, however Keith assured Matt that it wasn’t usually like this, that it was usually extremely lively and full of gossip and chatter. It wasn’t hard to believe, they seemed almost like a close knit community, ready to defend each other no matter the cost. 

Once food had been eaten and Hunk had taken all the plates, a small dispute broke out as to who would help him do the washing up – everyone had something they wanted to do instead of be helpful in usual teenage fashion. A voice piped up from the commotion,  
“I’ll do it.” All eyes turned to Matt, who scurried into the kitchen as quickly as possible to avoid any more altercations. The small amount of social interaction could give him a chance to actually make a few friends in this place. Hunk was standing by the sink, hands already engulfed in the soapy abyss, humming a merry tune with a soft smile on his face. From what he’d seen, he was the type of person with a gruff exterior, but a loving interior. He was one of the nicest people in the house, according to the others, and he seemed like someone to protect a small animal like it was his own baby. Also, he always had the most equanimity in a stressful situation. It was rather impressive, actually. Hearing the door open, he looked up and met Matt with a smile, 

“You helping me out today?” he asked hopefully, earning a nod. As there were two sinks, Matt took over the second, dividing all the china and cutlery into two before getting to work. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hunk glancing over at him in two minute intervals, and decided to break the silence by using this opportunity to learn more about his fellow housemates – the focus on Zak and Shiro.

“So, what’s Zak’s deal?” He asked, diverting his attention from the plate and meeting eyes with Hunk. A small pout appeared on his face, and his brows knitted together in confusion,

“I’m not sure to tell you the truth, he’s here for anger management issues. He’s mentioned a few times that he’s been in juvenile detention centres, but no more would take him, so he came here instead,” he admitted, before chuckling, “Actually, I remember his parents. They looked so tired of his shit and I swear as they drove off they were having a party.” He shook his head and turned back to the washing. Matt hummed, also going back to the washing up,

“I certainly wouldn’t want him,” he mumbled, “What about Shiro? He’s mentioned something about a car crash and drunk driver but didn’t specify.” Hunk tensed up slightly. Was it a touchy subject?

“I don’t know much either to tell you the truth. He was driving home from school or something, and a drunk driver ran a red light. The impact flipped his car. He lost his arm, and had it replaced with a prosthetic,” the pair silenced after he said that. Matt hadn’t even noticed he lost an arm, was his tunnel vision really that bad? After that, the gossip about their peers had died down, just as well considering everything was clean, dried, and put away. Matt thanked Hunk for the explanatory exposition, before heading back upstairs to the room he shared with Shiro.

When he walked in, Shiro was settled in a comfy armchair that sat in the corner of the room, nose buried in a book about Ancient Egypt. It was now that the prosthetic jumped out at Matt. Unlike usual ones, it wasn’t skin coloured, instead it was a mixture of grey and black. Also, the hand of the arm, had individual fingers. It had incredible detail and the hand worked perfectly, the manufacturer must’ve been a genius. He made a mental note to question him when they were closer. Unaware of his presence, Shiro continued to read, only looking up when the springs of the bed creaked with the newly added weight as Matt sat down. 

“I’m surprised that thing even creaks when you sit down.” He commented, earning a small chuckle and a roll of the eyes.

“I’m not as light as a feather, my bones and the small amount of muscle I have still weigh a fair amount.” He shot back. Shiro laughed and rested his book open in his lap, holding his hands up,

“Alright! Don’t attack me with science! It’s my weakest point.” He admitted, smiling. Matt chuckled, glancing at the book laying in his roommates lap,

“You like History?” he asked hopefully, maybe they had similar interests, and rooming with each other wouldn’t be heinous. Not that it would be in the first place, Shiro was kind, caring, funny and crazily attractive. Said roommate nodded, holding up the book so Matt could clearly see the cover,

“Yup,” he admitted, popping the ‘p’, “I adore it, you?” Matt giggled, reaching into his suitcase and pulling out a small book of his own, detailing interesting facts on the Victorian Era.

“My favourite is Victorians and Middle Ages! But if I could visit any time period, definitely Victorian – hence the reason I didn’t feel like total crap coming here, it’s of Victoria descent!” Shiro nodded, laughing slightly. Matt clocked the way his nose crinkled as he laughed, and how his eyes scrunched creating small wrinkles at the outer corners. His eyes, the grey pupils masked an obvious traumatic experience, which he learned of prior, yet clearly held wisdom beyond comprehension. 

Him, on the other hand, not so grand. Scrawny, tatted ginger hair, a skeleton carefully making their way through life, trying not to mess up anything or damage relationships he cherished; like the one with his beloved baby sister. Yet, he knew that one was already on the brink of collapse. 

He hoped that the friendships he made here would be more stable than the ones with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back, and struggling to write, really bad. I'm going to change things up next chapter and write in Shiro's POV! Hopefully to boost my creativity a little bit...
> 
> Instagram - @shattmotherfuckers


	5. Chapter 5

Matt was... different.

Not bad different! But, the kind of different that causes a weird feeling in your stomach, a feeling of uncertainty – as if you were treading on eggshells. Shiro knew people going through what he was now believed they were in control of themselves, they were blind to how bad they were getting. Keith, who he saw as his little brother, had the same mentality. It was frightening to watch them spiral out of control and feel as if you’re behind a glass wall, unable to help and only watch.

Matt wasn’t like Keith though. He knew what he was doing was wrong, and it seemed he wanted to change. But he needed a push in the correct direction, and Shiro was willing to help him in any way possible. He looked like the beginning of an apocalypse. Amber eyes had sunken into their sockets, cheekbones protruding immensely, every bone in his hands were easily distinguishable and his arms were no bigger than the width of a two pound coin. 

Sitting in the comfy arm chair in the corner of his now shared room, reading a book about the Ancient Egyptians, these thoughts whizzed through his head. In fact, he wasn’t even paying attention to the words as his eyes skimmed across the page in an attempt to look busy, so concentrated on looking like he was reading that he forgot to read. So engrossed was he in this fake activity that the presence of his roommate went unnoticed for the next few minutes until the creak of the bed springs alerted him of such. Peering over his book, he smiled,

“I’m surprised that thing even creaks when you sit down.” Matt rolled his eyes and let out a small chuckle, clearly amused,

“I’m not as light as a feather, my bones and the small amount of muscle I have still weigh a fair amount.” He shot back. Shiro put his hands up in a surrender, laying his book open,

“Alright! Don’t attack me with science! It’s my weakest point.” He admitted, smiling. Matt chuckled, glancing at the book laying in his lap,

“You like History?” he asked, a tinge of hope evident in his voice. While he wasn’t crazy about it, the sheer hope caused some kind of switch to flick,

“Yup,” he lied, popping the ‘p’, “I adore it. You?” he asked, trying eagerly to change the subject. The way Matt’s eyes lit up with excitement and passion was definitely worth it, as was seeing the happiness in his expression,

“My favourite is Victorians and Middle Ages! But if I could visit any time period, definitely Victorian – hence the reason I didn’t feel like total crap coming here, it’s of Victoria descent!” he said. It was almost cute seeing the way he lit up when talking about History, it was obviously a huge love of his. The way his hair bounced when he laughed and talked, how his oversized circular glasses constantly had to be pushed further up the bridge of his nose to prevent them falling off. It was cute.

The pair sat in comfortable silence after that, Shiro returning to his fake reading and Matt staring longingly out the window. Bullets of rain smashed against the window, causing a sheet of white noise, giving way in almost perfect three minute intervals to the boom of thunder and a flash of bright white light. While thunderstorms never scared Shiro, they didn’t calm him either; he’d never be able to sleep through one. Most found them comforting but others saw them as terrifying monsters desperately trying to break the sanctuary of their homes. Shiro’s perspective was sort of... in between.

Storms reminded him of that day—

The tires screeching filled his ears, the truck colliding into his vehicle. Debris fell all over the wet tarmac. The car flipped, unimaginable pain shot through Shiro’s left arm. The rain outside swallowed his screams---

“Shiro? Shiro? Shiro listen to me! Breathe!” Matt’s voice broke his nightmare, and only now did he realise he was hyperventilating with tears running freely down his cheeks. He locked eyes with his roommate, who had a fear stricken face, “Come on, breathe in, one, two, three. Good. Good. Calm down, it’s okay...” his comforting words helped cure his nerves, and his breathing returned to normal.

“I-I’m okay... I’m sorry... the rain reminded me... of the... accident...” he admitted, placing a reassuring hand on the smaller male’s shoulder. A sigh of relief escaped him, and he nodded slowly, smiling,

“You scared me, I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks so I did what my sister would do for me...” he admitted. Shiro stared at him, he talked about it like it was nothing...

“How are you so calm about it? Calm about your anxiety and panic attacks? So nonchalant?” he asked curiously. Matt sat on the arm of the chair, and shrugged,

“They’ve become a part of every day life, I’ve learned to deal with them mostly alone. It’s easy when you’ve had so many,” the tone of his voice sounded sad, almost defeated as if he’d lost a long battle with a monster, 

“Don’t worry, I won’t burden you with my issues – I’ll, uh, keep to myself when they happen.” Shiro frowned at those words, no, no he wouldn’t let that happen. In Matt he saw Keith, a boy who was drowning, a boy who needed someone to show him the ropes and guide him through a dark time to a better lifestyle. He placed a comforting hand on his roommates knee, a lifeline,

“Don’t. I don’t want you to shut out anyone here, Matt. Allura, Coran, Lance, Keith, me, we all want to help you escape this dark pit of... of misery. If there’s ever something that’s bothering you, or you feel like you’re going to have a meltdown, come to me, okay?” His comforting words seemed to crack at the walls Matt had built around himself, a small smile appeared on his face, and he nodded.

“Okay... thank you Shiro... it really means a lot to me...” he whispered, eyes glossy with tears. Standing from his seat, Shiro enveloped his roommate, no – his friend – in a hug. A loving hug, one that told him he was not alone. 

They were not alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really been struggling with writing recently but I think switching to Shiro for one or two chapters will not only allow the reader to get inside his head and find out what he's thinking, but will give me a little more inspiration. Just, be patient with me guys... thanks.
> 
> IG: @shattmotherfuckers


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot finally gets fucking going again jesus fuck.

It’d been a week or so, and Matt was settling into The House of Lions pretty well. Lance was probably his favourite to talk to, surprisingly the pair had similar interests and enjoyed torturing the other housemates with horrendous puns. Also, they had an ongoing game – who can make the most meme references at a meal. The record, held by Matt, was seventeen. 

Shiro, his roommate, was the easiest to go to for problems. The pair had grown close, however the extent of their conversations included a short description on how their day had been, but most of their time was just spent in comfortable silence as they sat across the room from each other reading or drawing. 

This was one of those times, although Matt could feel something off in the air. It was laced with discomfort and tension, and it came down like a crushing weight on the smaller teen; it’d been this way for a while, a couple days at the most and while he was curious, he didn’t want to be intrusive and rude.

So he asked Lance instead.

The Cuban boy gave the red head an inquisitive look, almost like the question asked was foolish, one he should know the answer to. He explained that the day after next was the anniversary of the incident that cost Shiro his right arm, and while he put up a strong facade, all he really needed was someone to stay with him. The weight pressed harder onto Matt’s heart, and the boy gave a slow, knowing nod. He wouldn’t let Shiro be alone.

 

The day came quicker than expected, and it seemed far too soon that Matt was having to coax his roommate through a breakdown. Small self depreciating statements, muttered in between sobs just made the situation worse; the poor boy was so traumatized, and even after finally regaining composure he refused to leave the comforts of his bed, curled into the bedsheets like a safety cocoon that shielded him from the monsters of his mind. It broke Matt’s heart to see his friend in such a state, and tried to comfort him in any way possible – reading books to him, petting his hair, listening to music on his hidden iPod, all while being held in a vice grip, however it remained gentle enough so it didn’t snap his bones. Matt thought nothing of it, he was just comforting a friend.

As they were reading their fifth book for that day, the older teen finally opened up, carefully closing the book in Matt’s hands and placing it beside them on the bed. The redhead looked up cautiously, prompting his friend to speak.

“It’s been two years and I still think about it. About the man.” He admitted, adjusting his arms around Matt’s waist, “I wonder what he’s doing now. Does he think about me? Does he have family? I remember seeing a boy and a girl visit him in hospital, maybe his children... I wonder if they know what he did...” 

Matt filled the silence with his own anecdote, “I remember when my dad got into an accident. He said he’d accidentally ran a red light and a car collided with him... he was okay though...” The day that his mother got the call from the hospital, she’d scooped up her children out of school and taken them to see their dad. Matt, being the fourteen year old he was, believed his dad was going to die – poor seven year old Katie was bawling her eyes out even though the only injuries sustained were a broken wrist and a couple bruises. But to a child that was like a stab wound... to the brain.  
Shiro nodded slowly, resting his chin upon Matt’s head,

“Hospitals have the worst atmosphere... “ he mumbled. It was true honestly.

The air had been, rightfully so, full of disinfectant, however the substance always made Matt’s stomach churn; fluorescent lighting always burnt your eyes, even if they were closed tight, and the chaotic mood of the emergency room was never a good thing. It was a place in which you felt isolated and honestly completely cut off from the rest of the world, everyone was either exhausted, miserable or somewhere in between... 

The sound of the lunch bell echoed through the house, footsteps pattering down the wooden steps. Carefully, Matt pulled himself from his friends arms with a soft smile gracing his features as he met ashy grey eyes,   
“Come on... let’s get something to eat and then take a walk?” he offered, lightly brushing his fingertips over Shiro’s scuffed, metal knuckles. He earned a small nod and the pair headed downstairs in comfortable silence, small smiles on each of their faces.

 

After lunch, Shiro was dragged away by Hunk under the pretence of needing help with unpacking various ingredients, however both parties knew it was to give Matt a break. While he would never admit it, dealing with a traumatized friend while being traumatized yourself was... tiring... thankfully the absence of his roommate made what he was about to do a little easier.

The bathrooms were locked, smart move on Allura and Coran’s part honestly, however there was a simple solution. Closing the wooden door behind him as he stepped into his room, making as little noise as possible, Matt got onto his knees and reached underneath his twin bed, pulling out a brown paper bag. Upon opening it, a foul stench wafted out of the bag and into the room – Matt scrunched his nose in disgust and quickly opened a window – at least three inches of putrid vomit sat at the bottom of the bag. A small sigh escaped his lips, if anyone found out he’d he crucified and immediately put onto a horrible feeding tube. Removing the thought from his mind, he placed his index finger and middle finger onto his tongue, pushing backwards towards his gag reflex, hunching over the bag in shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT'S THIS? PLOT? IN MY STORY? OH MY. Yeah but I'm gonna start knuckling down on this plot. PREPARE YOUR EMOTIONS!
> 
> Instagram: @shattmotherfuckers


	7. Chapter 7

Unbeknownst to Matt, peering through the small gap left open by the ajar door, a certain purple haired teen was watching with a smug smirk. As Matt lifted his head, brushing back his hair with his fingers, his eyes met sneering yellow ones – that made him freeze like a deer in the headlights. 

“Well, well. I wondered why on Earth you weren’t gaining any weight whatsoever.” Zak said, inviting himself into the room and nudging the door behind him shut, “They don’t keep medical records under tight lock and key in this house – I found that out a little while ago...” Matt gulped, the taste of lunch still in his mouth, his breathing picking up the pace as it tried desperately to keep up with his heart. He’d been caught red handed and he knew that there would be some deep shit now his secret had been unravelled from the nicely woven ball he’d had it in. Rain began pattering against the glass panes of the window, 

“What do you want to keep quiet?” Matt asked, his voice cracking at the pressure it’d been put under only a mere few seconds before; after all, he hadn’t had the chance to have a sip of water before Zak had intruded. Granted, it was his fault for being so careless. The older teen hummed folding his arms across his chest, piercing eyes scanning across the room – as if he was searching for something.

“Hm, now you mention it, I could do with a small favour.” He said, grinning mischievously at the redhead sat on the floor in front of him, who’s heart was desperately trying to escape his chest. The air was thick, and the smell of fresh vomit had seemingly been forgotten by the pair as they engaged in an intense bout of sharing glares. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Matt asked sharply, his words coated with venom and hatred. The last thing he wanted to do was succumb to Zak’s messed up games, however he knew that if Allura found out, due to his vitals and other complications with his health, he’d be given a feeding tube immediately. The thought of being force fed more than one thousand two hundred calories a day was absolutely terrifying. 

“I need something from Coran’s office. He has a small bottle of medicine, painkillers in a little blue bottle. You’re small and quiet, no one notices you slip in and out of a room except for me. So I need you to get them for me. Tonight, whilst everyone’s at dinner.” He said, pushing off the door frame and circling Matt’s side of the room, picking up a photo of his little sister and examining it mindlessly, “Of course, if you say no, Allura will have to know about your little secret; and no doubt she’ll pass the devastating discovery on to your family. Your sister would be especially upset – after all, you made a promise, did you not?” he asked, placing the photo back onto the dresser. Matt’s gaze dropped as he replayed his sisters final words to him,

_“I’ll see you soon, and you better have your old belly fat,” Katie whispered, glancing up at Matt, “There’s barely anything left of you to hug...”_

He let out a small sigh of defeat, 

 

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

 

Coran’s door was a beautifully polished mahogany wood, encircled with a white doorframe that contrasted against the rich red wallpaper of the house. The handle was a simple golden knob, that twisted to open, decorated with small designs of red roses – they seemed to be a prominent in this house of Hell. 

Carefully, Matt twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, staying as silent as he could; however the age of the house didn’t agree with his sneaky behaviour, and the door let out a loud creak from the rusted hinges. Matt winced, scurrying inside and shutting himself in – thankfully everyone was at dinner and he’d spinned an elaborate excuse which he then laid onto Shiro. Even better was he believed him. 

Coran’s desk was the same beautifully polished wood as the door, his colourful stationery meticulously organized like a geometric grid. The wallpaper was a dark green, with a light green diamond pattern layered over the top. On the decorative wall hung a large painting of a beautiful young woman and her father, both expressions made you uncomfortable – it seemed they knew all your secrets, and things you hadn’t even done yet. Everything had a small sheet of dust covering it, however you couldn’t tell over the intrusive lemon scent of the air freshener sitting in the corner of the room; careful not to move anything from it’s pre determined position, Matt unlocked the top drawer using the key left in the lock, ‘Smart move Coran...’ he thought, grimacing and opening it. Inside were files on each kid in the house, colour coded and labelled. Matt resisted the urge to open his own folder – he didn’t want to be in the office longer than necessary and honestly he didn’t want to know what they had written about him – and grabbed the bottle of painkillers, slipping it into the pocket of his grey hoodie. This felt so wrong, so sneaky and awful, but it had to be done; that’s what he told himself at least...   
Quickly locking the drawer again, Matt slipped out of the room, letting out a breath of relief; maybe too soon. Down the hallway, footsteps echoed. Inching closer and closer towards the office. Panicking, Matt left the office door wide open and sprinted back to his room, holding tightly to the pills in fear of them falling out of his hoodie pocket and leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to the thief.

As Coran approached his office, his eyebrows knit together in confusion – had he left his door open like that? He was usually very good at shutting doors. Shrugging it off, the red headed man entered his office, closing the door behind him, abandoning the theories swimming in his head. A house member would never steal from authority.

 

The pills landed onto the bed gracefully, laying beside Zak’s feet. Matt’s gaze hardened as he looked at him,

“There. Take your fucking drugs – whatever you want them for. Now leave me alone, and so help me if you don’t hold up your end of the deal this won’t end pretty.” Zak’s eyes, which apparently were naturally a deep brown colour with specks of grey and green, lifted from his crime novel and landed onto the bottle of cobalt pills waiting patiently to be taken. The teen put the book in his lap, letting out a hum of approval,

“Hm, good. Good. Now, get out of my room and leave me be.” he said in a calm tone, his face absolutely stone cold and stoic. Perhaps he wasn’t a person, maybe he didn’t have a heart or soul and was just an emotionless, empty husk that stayed buried in the shadows until tension arose – and he was needed to instigate an argument for his sickly entertainment. Matt has heard stories after all, before Lance and Keith had gotten together Zak had managed to drive a wedge between them that was so full of spite it took months of harsh glares and unneeded bickering for it to break away; leaving behind the beautifully happy couple they were now.

 

Bitterly, Matt turned, silently cursing him out before slamming the door behind him, creating a satisfying BANG that echoed throughout the halls of the house; heavy footsteps crashed onto the wooden floorboards as he stormed away, seething with red hot anger. How was he supposed to stay in this house, in such close proximity to Zak? Only time could tell...

Turning a sharp corner, angry tears threatening to spill from his amber eyes, Matt was so immersed in his internal struggle that he walked face first into Shiro, who was wandering around the halls in an attempt to find his friend. However when he did finally find him, his usually bright eyes were glassy and his lips were turned down into a frown; concerned at his lack of concentration and obvious sadness,

“Matthew? What’s wrong?” Shiro asked, his tone laced with concern and a protectiveness that went above the acceptable amount for a new friendship. Matt swallowed the lump in his throat, and forced a smile,

“I’m fine.”


	8. Chapter 8

The silence was deafening, almost as if Shiro and Matt were drowning in the lack of communication. The elder teen knew damn well something wasn’t right, but as much as he wanted to climb the walls his friend had built around himself, he wasn’t skilled enough yet. To make matters worse, he’d seemingly been getting smaller and skinnier, to the point some housemates had become afraid he’d disappear into thin air one day. His face was sinking faster than quicksand, the once bright amber eyes he’d seen in photos now dark and devoid of energy, sunken into their sockets creating a dark shadow that made him seem like the embodiment of sorrow. Pale cheeks littered with freckles had also sunk, making his cheekbones protrude immensely and give his face a sharp, almost intimidating vibe – as if he would bite your finger off if you got too close. Although, a simple glance at his arms, which were no bigger than the width of a coin, would tell another story. 

To further complicate the situation, there was a strange scent wafting around their room, which made Shiro want to throw up every time he walked in. Searches for the strange smell had upturned nothing and it was becoming worse every single day. Windows stayed open in a useless attempt at filtering the air, and whilst Shiro stayed in the dark as to the source of the stench, Matt was always vaguely aware of the brown paper bag constantly sitting underneath his bed. It was a crushing weight of anxiety and guilt, reminding him of his betrayal to his family and to the rest of his housemates – including Shiro. As hard as he tried to resist the urge to bring up his food, he was never strong enough and found himself spewing chunks into crumpling paper. Meanwhile, Shiro was making him feel so much worse. Every day after a meal, the older teen would pull his friend into a tight hug, smiling as bright as the sun, and whisper how proud he was that Matt was getting better so quickly.  


_But he wasn’t._

__

__

_He was falling._

_Falling._

_Sinking._

_Unable to cry for help._

_He was suffocating in the walls of the House._

 

Thankfully, in the house, every few weeks, Allura would plan a day trip somewhere to entertain everyone, (you get fed up of the indoors eventually, even if you live in a house equivalent to a small castle.) It was often in the town closest to the House, Henwick, which was a quaint village with a very close community; the most popular place for the teens to go was either the pantomime a local drama group held every once in a while, or the local library. For those who didn’t want to read, there were computers, however Allura only let certain people use them, like Hunk and Lance who were ‘well-behaved’, and even then they were under strict supervision. What Matt hadn’t known prior to arriving at the House was that there was no service, cable or internet. Coran had spinned some sort of profound excuse that, if you have no outside negative influences, you heal better. Little did he know of the yellow eyed monster constantly hiding in plain sight behind vicious insults and an aloof aura – the one that masked a truly terrifying truth.

Said yellow eyed demon was sitting behind Matt in the car, driven by Coran, as he nervously fiddled with the hem of his worn green shirt. Their eyes met every now and then when Matt glanced into the rear view mirror, only to be met with a smirk that dripped with venom. He almost expected the violet haired boy to let out a screech and lunge forward, tightly wrapping his calloused and scarred hands around Matt’s neck, and squeeze the life out of him as Shiro slept blissfully unaware. Miles of green countryside rolled past as Matt gazed longingly at the outside world, waiting for something, somewhere to pull him towards the path of redemption.

Even if it seemed miles away, surely he could get there eventually with the right attitude, right? 

Fields finally gave in to cobbled roads, and the car travelled hastily over the rough terrain before being parked in a relatively flat area, most likely a designated car park for tourists. The engine sputtered to a halt and Coran, along with Matt and Zak, got out of the car, (Shiro was still fast asleep until Zak slammed the door, at which point he awoke with a start and got out as well.) The bright orange ST Ford Focus stood out vastly in the small, rustic village, that brought vibes of medieval times to Matt. It felt closed off, just like the house – it somehow made Matt feel even more trapped than inside of the Lion Manor walls. 

Attempting to shake off the feeling, the teen turned and gave his now undivided attention to Allura, who had just pulled up in her fancy black convertible with the rest of the housemates. Brushing down her skirt, a black one with a simple white design along the hem, she gave her most motherly smile to the teens,  
“So, as your free day I’ve decided to give you each a certain amount of money and let you wander about on your own, however I want you all returned to this spot in four hours exactly,” Allura glanced down at her watch, “It’s now midday, I expect you here at 4pm. Go ahead!” she said, as Coran handed everyone £30 each. Matt felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned, letting a smile creep onto his face as he met eyes with Shiro, who’s face was filled with childish excitement; without a word, he took his friends hand and began leading him down the cobbled pathway, earning a confused laugh from the younger teen, who followed nonetheless. There weren’t many people roaming the streets, although the odd old man or woman carrying her baby passed by, the town seemed deserted. Shiro led Matt through back alleyways and weaved through streets with a silent smile, which slowly built up unending amounts of suspense for Matt. 

The journey finally stopped at a cute little shop, tucked away in the shadows of the village – the window display was extremely retro, old vinyl and record players stacked neatly in geometric patterns adorned with beads, playing cards and various vintage jewellery pieces that were simply gorgeous in Matt’s opinion. 

“I always come here when we have a free day. They sell the most amazing stuff,” Shiro began, drawing Matt’s attention from the incredible shop windows, “Every time I buy at least one thing, because every piece has an intricate history and honestly it’s fascinating. Everything is second hand and has a past that’s so delicate it mimics our own backstory.” His eyes shone as he spoke about the shop, again giving off a child like aura that lightened Matt’s mood tremendously. 

“Well let’s go in! I want to see this incredible shop from the inside!” It seemed that was all Shiro had been waiting for, as he immediately crashed into the shop, greeting the old man behind the counter like a grandfather – meanwhile the redhead looked around the shop with undisguised awe. 

The interior was even more cluttered than the windows, every inch of the walls were covered in various trinkets and gadgets, jewellery and paintings, clocks and watches, along with everything in between. Some clocks ticked in time, others swam against the waves and ticked a few minutes out of tune, creating a hypnotising melody that could lull even an insomniac to sleep. Whilst the clocks and other antiques were interesting, the things that intrigued Matt were the rings. One that caught his eye particularly was a beautiful bronze, shaped as two swirls that seemed to wrap around the persons finger, adorned with bright green stones that sparkled in the sunlight. Shiro called out to him, 

“Matt! You ready to head to another place?” he asked, jogging over to where his friend was standing. The redhead nodded, putting the ring back – he wanted to use the money Allura gave him for some food – and headed for the door. Shiro’s eyes lingered on the ring that had been on Matt’s finger, 

 

“You head out... I’ll be two seconds...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler, just wait for what comes next.
> 
> IG/ @shattmotherfuckers


	9. Chapter 9

The pair ate lunch at another reclusive spot, laughing over burgers and diet cokes, sharing stories about the housemates and embarrassing moments of their past – like the time Matt chased a swan and lost his glasses when it attacked. After that, they decided to mosey around town, though Shiro was acting as if he was hiding something, Matt couldn’t tie down his curiosity, questioning his friends unusual behaviour only to be met with a half hearted shrug and clear dismissal. 

As the sun made it’s way across the sky, and the free time in the village slowly dwindled down, Shiro insisted on taking Matt to one last spot, a light reappearing in his dark eyes. Said place was a lush field, adjacent to the village, complete with rolling hills that extended into the distance, dissipating into the azure sky. The view was picturesque, almost too perfect to be real, it mimicked the images you’d see on the front of a postcard or cheesy birthday card you’d receive from your Grandma. They picked a spot, sat, and sat in comfortable silence, however Takashi continuously fiddled with his hands, hem of his shirt, blades of grass, anything to occupy his hands, something Matt had learned was a nervous habit. Placing his smaller, skinnier hand atop Shiro’s calloused one, the fiery haired boy gave his friend a look of concern, tilting his head slightly to the left in a puppy like manner that always got him the answers he wanted. A sigh escaped his lips,

 

“Uh, earlier... in Jules’ shop? You liked the rings, right?” he asked, a slight tremor to his voice. Matt nodded,  
“Yeah, I love jewellery honestly, especially rings,” he flashed a silver band that was on his little finger, the initials ‘MH + KH’ engraved on the top in beautiful swirly letters, “My sister... got me this for my last birthday. She’s... really cheesy like that, refuses to get lots of cheap presents but instead buys one that’s stupidly expensive for a thirteen year old... she uses her entire allowance most of the time...” Shiro let out a chuckle, shifted uncomfortably in his spot, before digging into his coat pocket and producing the same ring Matt had been admiring earlier in the shop – the emerald stones shone, catching the afternoon rays. His eyes widened, torn between staring at his friend and the ring,

 

“I wanted to get you something to celebrate you getting better, and for surviving the first month at the Lion House...” he admitted, taking Matt’s hand and slipping the ring onto his middle finger, smiling, “I’d put it on the other one for the sake of continuity but, that’d mean something much more,” the pair laughed and Matt held his hand in the light,

 

“I love it, thank you so much Shiro,” the teen pulled his friend into a hug, a bright smile plastered on his face. He didn’t notice how Shiro’s hands lingered above his waist for a second, before settling around his upper body instead.

 

Turns out, corralling six teenagers is far harder than it sounds. Hunk, Matt and Shiro all returned to the agreed rendezvous on time, however the other three were no where to be seen, causing Allura and Coran to have to send everyone to find the other teens. Keith and Lance were found by Allura, in an alley, doing... intimate things, as usual. Matt found Zak lounging around behind an abandoned jewellery factory, smoking a cigarette with around four more littered at his feet. The gravel crunched underneath Matt’s feet, catching the purple haired boys attention, a dark smirk creeping onto his face at the sight of the redhead,   
“Just who I needed to speak to,” he growled, throwing the cigarette to the ground to join the others, stomping it out with his boot, “I have another job for you.”

 

Thief. That’s what he was. A horrible thief. Self depreciating thoughts swirled through his mind as Matt begrudgingly handed over a silver master key to Zak, one he’d taken from Allura’s jacket that’d been draped over a chair in the living room, unguarded. He hated this. He hated stealing, especially such important items from such wonderfully generous people. But, the blackmail he held over him was substantial, and could ruin everything he had. He’d be put on a tube feeder immediately and looked at with such pity and remorse it’d be unbearable.

He was trapped in an endless loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than usual??? I'm sorry if its shit i havent proof read it or anything its been so long I just needed to update ;-; Apologies...
> 
> forgive me
> 
> IG: @shattmotherfuckers


	10. Chapter 10

“What do you mean you couldn’t do it?”

Zak’s words cut like a knife, digging into Matt’s flesh, unforgiving, unrelenting. 

“I couldn’t take his car keys.” Zak’s eyes seemingly burned with the rage of a thousand men, as he took a threatening step towards the smaller boy. Days had blurred into months of theft and only a few hours prior to this altercation Matt had been instructed to steal Shiro’s car keys; they sat out in the open on his bedside table, untouched, collecting dust and haunting the corners of Shiro’s mind. Perhaps, Matt thought, their absence would be a good thing, however when he was faced with the challenge he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Now he was facing his blackmailer, defiant and strong on the outside, scared and vulnerable on the inside. 

“You... You’ll pay for disobeying me, Holt,” Zak said, his voice lowering to the point that it sounded like a growl, “Everyone will know.”

And with those simple words, he turned on his heel, and left, Matt paralysed with fear.

Shiro’s day had gone as usual: scolding Lance and Keith for being inappropriate in the bathroom shower, (damn them and their hormones...), spending the morning helping Hunk unload the groceries, having his usual afternoon tea with Allura, and then keeping Coran company in his room as he went through housemates paperwork. Shiro never liked to be alone, when a room was silent memories of that day flashed through his mind—

_Flashing red and blue lights turned the corner, an ambulance siren wailing in the background. People barked orders, a grey haired man lead into the police car—_

Any free time in the day was then spent with Matt, who was by far his favourite housemate. Quiet and reserved when needed, yet undeniably intelligent and easy to hold a conversation with. His amber eyes always lit up when he spoke about something near and dear to his heart; like History or Science, and his smile always made Shiro’s heart flutter and heated his face, though he brushed it off, attributing it to the temperature of the room, lack of food, or anything other than the boy sat with him.

Presently, as he lounged in his room, casually reading a book, a note slipped underneath the door, his name on the top in scratchy handwriting. Curiosity overwhelmed him, and the teen stood from his chair, picking the note up and opening it, squinting at the writing. It was incredibly messy and hard to decipher...

It read:

_Shirogane,_  
_I want you to meet me behind the house once you receive this note. There’s matters we need to discuss regarding your roommate, Matthew. Him and I have been chatting recently and I have some interesting information I think you’ll want to hear.  
Zak. _

 

He found the purple haired teen unsurprisingly smoking behind the house, a menacing glare plastered on his face, one that hardly phased Shiro in his quest. Zak had hurt Matt, that much was obvious from the undisguised threats in the letter. 

“What are you doing to Matt?” he asked, words clear  
and concise, folding his arms across his chest, watching as the other boy let out a low chuckle and straightened out his posture from leaning against the decaying bricks of the house. 

“Whatever do you mean Shirogane?” he asked, feigning innocence, angering Shiro even further. Hurting Matt was one thing, refusing to confess to his wrongdoings up front was another; he took a step forward, drawing up to his full height and staring down at the delinquent with an intimidating, accusatory glare, 

“You know damn well what. Come clean before I start throwing punches.” That seemed to work, the cigarette dropping from the boys fingers and being stomped out by his boot. His actions made it seem as if he’d lost, but the sadistic smirk on his lips made Shiro think otherwise.

“Have you seen underneath Matthew Holt’s bed?” he asked, looking up at Shiro, “Or smelt something putrid in the air?” The taller teen narrowed his eyes, he had noticed a strange odour but thought it was simply a re-visit from the Manor rats, and their shit. Zak smirked, “The boy’s been making himself throw up, eating at dinner is just a cover up.” He lit another cigarette, taking a drag and blowing the smoke into Shiro’s stunned face, the lies being fed to him for the past few weeks suddenly being realised – and everything else made perfect sense. Why Matt was acting strangely and being defensive about Shiro going on his side of the bedroom, why he wasn’t putting on a single pound despite the food he’d eaten, and why his features seemed to look more dead as the days went by. Knuckles turned white, jaw set firm, Shiro turned, heading back to where he’d left Matt, muttering an, ‘I’m not done with you.’ As he walked back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOO WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO,
> 
> WHEN THE SHIRO COMES FOR YOU?
> 
> IG/ @shattmotherfuckers


	11. Chapter 11

_BANG!_

Matt shot up from his position, letting his book fall onto the pillow with a small thud, staring shell-shocked into the eyes of his angered roommate, one he hadn’t seen all day. The way his nose flared and his brows furrowed was unsettling, and the fiery glare he held even more so.

“Shiro...? What’s wrong?” Matt asked quietly, shuffling back, unconsciously trying to escape the threatening gaze. Something was wrong. Zak, Matt thought, Zak told him. Shiro pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, practically shoving it into his hands, far too aggressively for Matt’s liking. He never acted this way.

“Read it.” He hissed, blocking the door. Matt wasn’t running from this one. Amber eyes scanned the words on the paper, realisation setting into the pit of his stomach; slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet his friends, expression full of remorse, shame and embarrassment.

“I...” Shiro lifted a hand and silenced the redhead, crouching by his bed and searching underneath, pulling out the brown paper bag and sitting with it in his hands, disgusted already. Not by Matt, but by his habits. The anger bubbling up inside was spilling out at once, coming off as hate, when the harsh reality was the complete opposite - Shiro loved Matt, far too much for his own good – and to know he was faking his health, faking getting better, faking everything, that everything Shiro thought and everything Matt had told him was a lie was too hard to handle.

“Why?” he asked, gripping the bag so tightly his knuckles turned white, the paper crumpling in his fists, screaming in agony. The crushing weight of what Matt had done fell onto his shoulders with that single word, tears brimming in his eyes as he desperately scrambled for an explanation. He had to. He had no choice. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get better. The room was closing in on him, the walls slowly moving closer like a trap in a Saw movie, an inescapable horror; he couldn’t run this time, he was trapped. Black danced around the edges of his vision, taunting him with unconsciousness, with an escape from the tense situation. Taking a deep breath, Matt spoke,

“I’m sorry.” He shifted slightly, hugging one of his legs, leaving the other dangling from the edge of the bed, “I couldn’t... fight it... It took over.” Now Shiro was shaking, with anger or sorrow was debateable, but either way Matt had disappointed him, and his sister. Wind whipped the velvet curtains, an open window bringing the breeze into the room, dark clouds slowly creeping in over the azure sky menacingly.

“How could you?” Shiro asked through gritted teeth, “After everything we did for you, after everything Allura did and Coran did, how fucking could you?!” Matt whimpered, cowering before his friends threatening presence, feeling as small as a child, vulnerable as anything – no one there to protect him anymore. The smell made it all worse. It made him want to throw up even more than the anxiety building up inside. Shiro stood,

“You lied, Matt. You lied about everything and to be honest, my trust in you has decreased so much. How can I ever get to know someone who hides themselves under a veil of lies and self-consciousness?!” His tone had now progressed to yells, ones full of venom and hatred, that made Matt cower back, hugging a pillow for comfort. Words failed him. What was he supposed to say?!

The door burst open, giving Matt an escape, however that thought vanished when he saw Keith standing in the doorway, tears streaming down his face like waterfalls. Shiro’s face softened immediately,  
“Keith?! Keith what’s the matter? What’s going on?!” he asked frantically, placing his hands on the boys shoulders.

“It’s Lance...” he whispered, “He’s on the roof.”

There was another set of stairs, leading to a usually locked door, one that led directly to the rooftop of Lion House. As Matt fumbled with the door handle, hands shaking like a leaf as the door flung open at the hinges, creaking loudly. Stood at the edge of the roof was Lance, swaying in the brutal winds as he stared down at the ground below, only looking back at the sound of the door, a peaceful, sad smile spread across his features.

“Hey, Matthew.”

 

Rain began to fall, at first as a light sprinkle and then as a full on shower as the sky wept uncontrollably, plastering Lance’s brunette hair to his forehead, soaking his clothes and Matt’s, who was cautiously making his way towards the edge of the roof. On the ground, Shiro cradled a sobbing Keith, and Allura was on the phone to the emergency services, prepared for the worst. Matt stopped halfway towards Lance, reaching his hand out, shaking like a leaf,

"Lance come on... come down please,” he begged, taking another miniscule step closer, “Everyone’s waiting for you...”

“Where’s Keith?” Lance asked quietly, visibly wilting like a flower in the desert, “Shouldn’t he be the one up here?” The simple statement made Matt’s vision swim, of course he wanted Keith and not him, but Keith was far too distraught to be coherent and able to convince his boyfriend to come down from the roof. Enlightening as the situation was, as Matt never understood why someone like Lance, who seemed so happy go lucky, was at the house – it was probably the worst way to discover Lance was most likely suffering with depression. Flashes of bright white lightning dazzled Matt’s eyes, illuminating the sheer defeat in the Cuban boy’s face, who looked like he was ready to fall, to let gravity take it’s course and to end what he thought was a meaningless life.

“Lance...” Matt begged. Something snapped, changed in Lance at the mention of his name,

“NO!” he screamed, “Don’t give me some bullshit that everything will be okay and that I’ll feel better at some point! I’m losing touch with reality, Matt! Everything is just a blur I can barely remember, nothing is worth paying attention to!” Staggering towards the edge, both Matt and Lance desperately searched for words.  
Say something.

He turned.

_Idiot, say something before he jumps!_

He took a deep breath.

_ANYTHING! PLEASE, SAY FUCKING ANYTHING!_

One foot hovered over the edge.

Matt reached out.

_“LANCE!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IS HE DEAD? IS HE NOT? YOU DON'T KNOW. I DO
> 
> ha.
> 
> IG: @shattmotherfuckers


	12. Chapter 12

Skinny arms found a muscular waist and tugged, with all the strength they could muster, pulling them back onto the safety of the roof. Lance let out a heartbroken sob and screamed, squirming desperately in Matt’s arms. 

Sirens wailed in the distance, flashes of blue and red visible through the treetops, as two teens clung desperately to each other, one trying to escape from the harsh reality of his life, and one trying to keep him there. On the ground below, Keith tore from Shiro’s arms and bolted up the stairs seeing Lance disappear from the roofs edge, knocking over vases and misaligning portraits in his blind hurry, leaving water puddles behind him as he ran. 

The roof door screamed as it was kicked open, the hinges crying under all the force. Lance and Matt looked up, more tears falling from Lance’s blue eyes as they found the violet eyes of his boyfriend. Matt let go of him, and allowed him to clumsily walk towards Keith, enveloping him in a tight bear hug; whispered apologies passed their lips as members of a medic staff appeared, prying the teens away from each other and placing shock blankets over all three of the boys shoulders, five escorting Lance and Keith down the stairs and one helping Matt. Awaiting in the front of the House were two large ambulances and a police car; Lance and Keith were loaded into one ambulance, however Matt refused to go, knowing they’d weigh and force a feeding tube into him. The medics put up a fight, but eventually had to pass him over to Allura – they couldn’t legally force him to hospital with no serious injuries. So he was lead back into the house, and sat in front of the fire with hot chocolate from Hunk in his hands. 

Everyone gave him some form of congratulations, including Zak, though he felt as if it was undeserved. He had only done what he thought was right, and the sheer realisation that he’d saved a life hadn’t hit him yet. As Matt stared into the flickering flames, watching wood be eaten and charcoal form, there was only one thing he wanted; dragging the blanket along the floor, he headed to the kitchen and found Allura’s phone, (he’d seen her set it down earlier.) With shaky hands he dialled a familiar number, holding it to his ear. It rang three times before the person on the other side answered,

“Dad?”

 

“Wait, so what happened to the boy?” 

Neon lights glowed in the darkness, illuminating two faces – a soft one and an old one – that sat at a booth, food untouched in front of them.

“Well, I’m not sure to be totally honest,” Matt admitted, averting his gaze from his fathers worried eyes, “Last time I’d seen him he was... smiling and laughing at lunch, all over his boyfriend. Then he was standing an edge away from death, ready to just jump.” A strong hand found a bony one, and his eyes flickered up to see his Dad’s signature supportive smile, 

“I’m so proud of you, Matt,” he said, lowering his voice as pride glimmered in his eyes, “You saved a life today.”

 

“Not my own though...”

Silence fell over them, a solemn atmosphere befalling the pair. Outside, storm clouds slowly began to clear away only to reveal a pale, grey sky, one that frowned upon the town and it’s residents. Street lamps began to illuminate cobbled paths, only the hard working man running through the streets, trying to make it home for dinner. 

“I ruined a life.”

Sam Holt, a usually bright and cheery person had changed drastically. His face was dark as he gazed into the street, deep in thought; eyebrows furrowed, lips drawn in a tight line, he looked far more troubled than he ever had before. Matt brushed his fingertips lightly over his knuckles in a questioning way, staring at him for answers. 

“I never did tell you about what truly happened on the night of my car accident, did I, son?” he asked, still refusing to meet his son’s gaze. Matt shook his head, prompting him to continue,

“I collided with a vehicle and it flipped, the person inside was crushed,” voice wavering, Sam took a shaky breath to compose himself, “He was young, you know? I saw him. On a stretcher. His arm... was gone. Completely. No doubt he lost it, and all because of me. I took someone’s limb from them, Matthew. Every appointment I pay for, anonymously. I’ll never be able to give him back the life I stole, all because I didn’t want to pay for a taxi. The least I can do is provide funds for his medical care...”

By now his eyes had gone glassy, and he’d dropped his head down. Matt was speechless, never had he imagined his father as the ‘villain.’ All his life he’d believed that the collision was nothing more than a blip, a bump in his life, but it was far more – while he’d never be able to see his father in the same light, he wanted to know every detail. He was curious.

“Do... you know the boys name?” he asked, “The one you injured.” His father nodded, finally turning back to Matt,

 

_“Yes. Takashi. Takashi Shirogane.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update/short chapter. I've been in a bad place... forgive me.
> 
> Follow my IG @shattmotherfuckers for updates...


	13. Chapter 13

It was a regular night, the roads were damp with rain, people ran along the pavements, huddled in their raincoats or crammed underneath an umbrella as the rain began to let in. Droplets slid down the windshield as Shiro glared at the red light ahead of him, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Traffic passed across the intersection for another five minutes until it turned amber, and not waiting a second longer, Shiro peeled through the light, whooping excitedly. Finally, he was out of the city! As he sat back in the leather seat of his truck, reaching over and turning on the radio. His Red Hot Chili Peppers CD began, a song filling the space,

_‘If I die before I get it done,’_

One arm came up and his fingers ran through his hair, thoughts swimming through his mind as streetlights entered and left his vision, buildings whizzing past at lightning speed. On the outskirts were the nightclubs and bars, also known as the worst part of town. You had to be hyper aware of drunk idiots crossing the road randomly, and worst of all – drunk drivers. Vigilance was key. Rain began falling gently for the second time that autumn evening, creating another layer of comforting sound, encompassing Shiro in a blanket of familiarity; a small moth landed on his windshield, attracting his attention. He hummed, inspecting the patterned wings of the insect as he drove through a relatively calm street – it seemed he was using the roof over his window to keep itself dry, something Shiro was able to get a small giggle out of. Moths seemed to follow him around wherever he went, so he didn’t have a phobia of them, at all, and they seldom scared him. For once, Shiro felt at peace, eyes turned back to the road.

Light was what he saw first, blinding the right side of his face. Then he felt pain, felt his truck veer to the side as he desperately turned the wheel to get out of the way. Airbag deployed, blocking his vision, the truck lost it’s path, toppling over at the sheer impact of the other vehicle. Glass smashed onto the tarmac of the road, scattering like snow and cutting into Shiro’s skin as he was thrown from one end of the car to the other, head hitting the roof of the car at the sharp impact. 

Then his arm snapped. A heart wrenching scream echoed through the streets as Shiro’s arm went completely numb, he didn’t know how else to react. Black crept into the edges of his vision like a monster, pulling him into unconsciousness.

 

“Ah, shit...” Sam mumbled, holding his head as he stumbled onto the tarmac to inspect the damage he’d caused to the front of the family car. Colleen would certainly kill him when he returned home with a busted headlight and crushed front bumper, and a concussion. He glanced up to the car he’d hit, heart dropping like stone at the sight before him – a truck flipped onto it’s side, civilians desperately clawing through the wreck to rescue the driver, a young man. Weight came crushing down upon his conscience, aware now that his hands were now coated in irrevocable blood, staining his soul forevermore and beyond. 

So immersed in his own guilt, sirens were drowned out, flashes of red and blue blocked from his field of vision and reality only dawned upon him again at the change of scenery. 

No longer was he in a dark street but a white hospital room, opening his eyes to blurry faces filled with tears. They were those of his wife, his daughter, and son. The children were sprawled across his chest, Matt’s small hand holding his with as much strength as he could muster, face tucked into his own arm, with only his amber eyes poking out from over the top, and ginger hair splayed around his head like a small halo. Katie was curled up beside her older brother, shaking with sadness as quiet sobs emitted from her mouth; Colleen sat behind them on a chair, rubbing soothing circles into her daughters back in an attempt to calm her, smiling gently at her husband as he slowly arose from his unconscious.

“Hey...” she whispered, Matt immediately sitting up and shaking his sister to attention, so now two sets of identical eyes were scanning every detail of their fathers face, searching attentively for injuries. A smile found its way onto his worn face,

“How long have I been asleep?” he asked, voice rough and husky. Katie spoke up, 

“AGES! I thought you were dead! Forever asleep!” she exclaimed, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes as she wildly motioned with her hands to highlight the importance of her statement. It made Sam chuckle a bit, his children truly reminded him of himself, strong and opinionated, unafraid and unwilling to back down. They were the light in his life. If something were to happen to them—

_civilians desperately clawing through the wreck to rescue the driver, a young man._

_a young man._

 

 

It only took a few days for Sam to be discharged from hospital, although he didn’t leave right away, nor call his wife. Instead, he wandered around the wards, glancing into all the rooms in search of a certain young man. Thankfully the hospital was small, it didn’t take long to find him. He was laying in a hospital bed, rhythmic beeping keeping track of his heart rate and lines on a screen monitoring his blood pressure. Numbers. Many numbers. However, that wasn’t what stood out. The boy’s right arm was reduced to a scarred stump, still red and raw as it healed. 

Stepping in tentatively, and closing the door behind him, he felt himself begin to shake. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as the rocks in his stomach solidified, the realisation of what he’d done setting in. A life had been ruined because of his carelessness and inability to ask for a simple ride home. His stubbornness had caused so much harm. 

_“What have I done...?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't been proof read, is super short and I hate it so much but it's been so long since I updated this fic. I'm not gonna update it for a while, not gonna work on it, not gonna think about it, just gonna let myself rest. Apologies for anyone who's dissapointed, I suppose.


	14. Chapter 14

Crowes landed on the telephone wires outside the house, singing their songs of death that echoed through the countryside, and travelled gracefully through the open window and into the boys ears. He was wrapped in his blanket like a shroud, staring at the empty bed that stood across from him, silently blaming him for Matthew’s sudden disappearance. 

Shiro let out a shaky sigh, hands trembling alongside the dying leaves on the trees; he didn’t know what had happened, however all he knew was that Matt had managed to bring Lance from the edge of deaths door, before running off in a black Jeep. Tinted windows hid the drivers identity as he sped off with the teen in the back seat, and with no one to confide in, he sat alone and confused in his now too empty room. Such a disappearance took a toll on the teen, and left him to reflect on his previous actions in more thought and depth, allowing him to realise the stupid, stupid mistakes. Someone like Matt couldn’t be spoken to so harshly, or shocked into submission, and now he was realising that his sharp words pierced his heart in a negative way; softer words would’ve been so much easier, so much more effective on a sensitive soul such as Matt’s.

A knock at the door tore him from his thoughts, a timid, yet determined one. A voice pushed it’s way through the cracks in the door, a voice recognisable almost instantly –

“Shiro...? Are you in there? Allura said you hadn’t been seen since... Lance...” he mumbled, barely able to say the last word before the door was flung open, straining the already breaking hinges, and the scarred teen pulled a red headed teen into his arms, fumbling with his words to try and string together an apology, a congratulations, and so much more into a few simple sentences. A small smile graced Matt’s lips and he just curled closer into his friends embrace, silently accepting the poorly worded sentences that somehow conveyed true sorrow.

“I’m sorry, I... so angry... you didn’t deserve it... you were... manipulated, I swear I’ll murder Zak...” he muttered, earning a light hearted chuckle from his friend, who gently pulled away from the hug and lead his friend to one of the beds, sitting on the edge of it; both taking the time to appreciate one another, and allow the realisation that the friendship they had created may become something closer so very soon.

“Where did you go...?” Shiro asked quietly, fiddling with the metal panelling on his hand, a nervous habit he’d picked up soon after the accident. He knew he wouldn’t be able to break it, so fiddling didn’t seem too major. Matt visibly tensed,

“Oh, right – um – I was just with my dad.” He said, an expression of uncertainty on his face, “I just needed a family member I suppose... though he did tell me something I wish he hadn’t...” his eyes seemed to linger on the prosthetic, shifting uncomfortably where he sat. Shiro raised an eyebrow, but tried not to pry, switching topics,

“What about a girlfriend? Or... boyfriend?” he asked, earning a scoff from his friend.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, and I’m not really into girls...” Matt admitted, “There’s only really one person I’ve ever genuinely considered dating; they’d never actually like me back though, not while I’m like this.” He gestured to his body, thin, and fragile, “They’re just so... perfect, they wouldn’t want someone so flawed.” Shiro frowned at the words, and tentatively reached out, turning Matt’s head to face him and cupping it in his large hands, a soft smile on his face,

“Hey... don’t talk like that. Anyone would be lucky as hell to have you. You’re smart, funny, witty, compassionate, adorable, determined, resilient, did I mention adorable?” he listed, a warmth spreading through his chest at the faint pink dusting Matt’s cheeks at the praise. Amber eyes were full of surprise, but behind that was something undeterminable, something soft and loving. 

A strange silence settled between the two boys, as they gazed at each other. Before either knew it, lips were pressed against one another, sparks flying like fireworks as they melted into the others touch; unspoken love filtering into multiple, soft, closed mouth kisses. Matt felt tiny in Shiro’s muscular arms, but in that moment he didn’t seem to care, squeezing the younger boys waist as he pulled him closer and towards his chest. A need to protect overwhelming him, a scary amount of love for the boy in his lap consuming every part of his being.  
In that moment, nothing meant more than the other in their arms.

With a soft gasp, Matt pulled away, flushed and out of breath, corners of his lips turned upwards, 

“You really mean all those things you said?” he asked hopefully. Shiro let out a soft chuckle, burying his nose into the crook of the boys neck,

“Every last word.”

Matt woke up the next morning, sleep clouding his vision, as he curled closer to the unfamiliar warmth beside him, his unconscious state subsiding after a few seconds – amber eyes flew open and took in the situation he was in. Sunlight shone down onto his face in rays of gold, sparse dust flying like tiny fairies in the light, and the white bedsheets pooled just below his torso, where it’d been pushed the previous night due to the heat. 

Takashi laid before him, eyes pressed closed, lines of distress etched across his forehead, hair pushed back into a messy quiff; his arms were wrapped around Matt – one came up to rest between his shoulder blades and one was slung lazily across his waist, effectively pulling the boy flush to his chest. The smaller boy hummed in contentment, and pressed a feather light kiss to his forehead, smoothing out the lines and allowing Takashi’s expression of distress into one of peace, a small smile finding his way onto his lips. 

Matt decided he liked this face much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's getting real. Or should I say... Shatt's getting real.
> 
> IG: @shattmotherfuckers


	15. Chapter 15

A few weeks passed, and things seemed to be looking up for Lion House. Fate finally smiled upon it’s occupants brighter than the sun could ever manage. Lance returned to the house two weeks after the _incident,_ and everyone had been treating him like a fragile, porcelain doll – much to his dismay, he continuously insisted he was fine even if there was still sadness behind those ocean eyes – but everyone was just glad to have him back. As Hunk so eloquently put it, “It seems so quiet without the constant thudding from his and Keith’s shared bedroom.” 

Matt came clean to Allura and Coran about his petty thefts and the way Zak had been blackmailing him with his bad habits. He expected some sort of punishment, a disappointed look at least, but all he got was understanding. Zak was scolded immensely, and it wasn’t as simple as a slap on the wrist; the boy was picked up by his father shortly after Matt had revealed his blackmailing, and transferred to another institution that focused specifically on teens with anger management issues and a lack of empathy. He said nothing as he left, only threw a venomous glare at Matt and Shiro as he walked out of the large oak doors for the last time, flipping off the house as the car drove away angrily. Shiro simply chuckled and squeezed his boyfriends hand reassuringly.

Boyfriend.

It still felt weird to have such a title.

After a few days of the relationship, the two were found out. Not that they were trying to be particularly secretive, but perhaps kissing each other breathless in the downstairs bathroom wasn’t the smartest idea on their part. Especially not when poor, innocent Hunk was on cleaning duty. 

Needless to say, they came out at dinner that night, earning a celebratory toast to their new relationship.

Everything was almost tied up in a neat little bow.

Keyword: almost.

There were still sleepless nights on Matt’s part, even as he began to slowly overcome his inner demons, the voices telling him he wasn’t good enough for Shiro and never would be. The sleepless nights were attributed to what his dad had confessed to him only a few weeks prior.

_  
“Do... you know the boys name?” he asked, “The one you injured.” His father nodded, finally turning back to Matt,_

_“Yes. Takashi. Takashi Shirogane.”_  
  
He still had yet to tell Takashi about his father.

That his father was the one to ruin his life. 

His father was the one who took his arm. 

His father almost took his life.

How could he? What could he do? 

These thoughts whirled through his mind as he lay in his boyfriends arms, feeling rough fingers card gently through his bed head, listening to his mumbled re telling of the dream he’d had the night before. He’d had more dreams that nightmares recently, he liked to thank Matt for that, saying it was because he had someone in his arms that loved him as equally as he loved them.

Goodness they were cheesy.

The morning sun only just peeked over the tumbling hills of the countryside, bathing their shared room in a soft, orange glow. The light danced in Matt’s eyes, like ballerinas, only they were dancing barefoot on scorching hot coals. Silence settled, like ash, and Matt couldn’t seem to find the words to begin such a devastating conversation – besides, did he want to ruin this? They had a bubble, and Matt was sitting with a needle ready to pop it.

“You’re thinking in metaphors again...” Shiro mumbled, burying his scarred nose into Matt’s tangled bed head, “Penny for your thoughts?”

_Well. This is as good a time as any._

“Well... do you remember when I went off with my dad? The day Lance tried to jump?” he asked, catching his boyfriend’s attention, “He took me to a café in town and told me something...”

Shiro nodded, prompting him to elaborate,

“Well...” Matt sat up slightly. It didn’t feel right to have such a heavy conversation curled up like stray cat, “He told me about the accident he was in. The one I told you about? He told me about the boy he hit. Apparently he was in a truck, around seventeen, and um,” the words couldn’t form. His perfectly templated sentences fell apart and instead of an articulate explanation, a jumble of words and phrases tumbled out instead,

“He told me his name was Takashi. Takashi Shirogane. It was you. My dad was the one who hit you.”

Matt finally looked up from where he’d been fiddling with his bony fingers. Shiro’s face was as white as his hair, and his previously relaxed form was now rigid and forced. It was like a hard to swallow pill. The boy he’d fallen in love with was related to the unknown man who’d ruined his life, taken his future and scrambled his brain. 

“Shiro?” Matt asked quietly, big, brown eyes staring fearfully at his boyfriend. The bubble had been burst, everything was completely ruined. 

He never deserved Shiro anyways, he was _ugly, disgusting, a liar, fat, unworthy, irrelevant, useless--_  
Familiar arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. 

“I want to meet him.

 

I want to meet your father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof sorry for the super fuckin late update. this story is becoming more of a burden on me now tbh, (there's only like one chapter left anyways) so ye, apologies for that
> 
> no promises when the final chapter will be up. hopefully soon. 
> 
> IG: @/shattmotherfuckers
> 
> come harass me on tumblr @/merakiao


	16. Chapter 16

His hands were shaking like leaves in the autumn breeze. 

His lips were painted crimson red from his constant habit of worrying them with his teeth.

Gravel screamed underneath the tires of a black Jeep that carefully pulled into the driveway of the looming and ever intimidating Lion House. Stood just outside were two boys, one he recognised as the skeleton of what was once his beloved son, Matt. 

Beside him stood a tall, muscular boy. His hair was black with a shock of white in the front, a scar sat across the bridge of his nose, and one of his arms was missing, replaced with a prosthetic. Sam tightened his hands on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles a terrifying shade of white. He'd ruined that boy's life, his future, and now his son was in love with him. 

_They say it's a small world, they're not kidding,_ he thought, a humourless chuckle escaping.

Stepping out of the car, he prepared for what was about to happen.

Matt was the first one to say hi, walking over with a soft smile and hugging him; it was a fleeting moment of comfort for both of them. Tension then settled over all of them like a thick blanket of snow, quiet and deadly.

"Um," Matt broke the silence, "Dad, this is Takashi, or Shiro. Shiro, this is my dad..." he said, gesturing to them both as he did introductions. Shiro smiled, almost mechanically, holding his hand out, 

"It's nice to meet you, sir," he said, shaking Sam's hand. His shoulders were pulled back and his chin was held high, jaw clenched and feet planted firmly to the ground. Sam didn't look too much different - they were both clearly very uncomfortable. With a defeated sigh, the smallest Holt lead the two inside, mumbling something under his breath about how they were both so robotic.

He sat them both down in the main living area on opposite sofas, running off to the kitchen and quickly returning with two cups of tea and one smoothie. He placed them all on the coffee table before taking his seat next to Shiro, putting as little space between them as possible. They were a comforting presence to each other in this unusual and stressful situation.

 

A cup of tea later, tensions weren't decreasing. Not even mildly. Matt was the only one keeping conversation alive, chatting animatedly about how he and Shiro ended up together. It made Sam smile, he'd never seen his son so happy, not since he'd become sick. His eyes lit up in a way they hadn't before, his smile was brighter than it had ever been, and his energy levels were at an all time high. Shiro on the other hand seemed content to just watch him with a lovesick expression, pure adoration in his gaze. He knew, no matter what happened, no matter his past, to bring himself to tear these two apart would be almost impossible. They were absolutely smitten. It almost reminded him of how he and Colleen were as teenagers, young and hopelessly in love.

"Matt?" he asked softly, cutting him off mid way through a tirade about how a boy named Zak was a 'purple fuck nugget that needed to sort his life out,' "Would you mind if Shiro and I spoke alone for a second?" 

Matt smiled, understanding in his eyes, 

"Sure, I'll be back in a bit," he said, standing from the sofa and pressing a quick, hesitant kiss to his boyfriend's cheek, shuffling out of the room. The pair watched him go,

"You really like him, huh?" Sam asked softly, catching Shiro's attention. His deer in the headlights look quickly morphed into one of pure, unfiltered love once he processed the question.

"Yeah... um, I do..." he mumbled, staring at the ground like it was the most interesting piece of art he'd ever seen. "Are you okay with that?"

Sam hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward and resting his elbows on on his legs,

 

"Son," he began, his tone somber, "I know we've had a complicated past, and even saying that is a huge understatement. If it wasn't for me, you'd have a whole life ahead of you. You wouldn't have scars or a prosthetic, nor a fear of driving or terrible nightmares. I think my son falling in love with you is both a blessing and a curse, depending on how you look at this situation,"

"I can never truly atone for what I've done, I understand that. I have guilt cemented in my stomach, and that will never truly leave. However," he glanced towards the doorway, where Matt was visible in the kitchen, chatting to Hunk, "What you two have is special, as an old man who's seen it all I can tell you that much. I would never dream of keeping you two apart because of my own mistakes. I wouldn't taint my own son's happiness for that, not when I haven't seen him so... animated and _alive_ in a year and a half. As long as you treat him right, I'm more than happy for you two to pursue this relationship." he assured, turning back to a teary eyed Shiro, smiling softly. The boy seemed at a loss for words, barely stuttering out a thank you through his tears. 

Sam tilted his head towards the door, motioning for him to go see Matt. He smiled thankfully, and stumbled into the kitchen with watery vision. He wrapped Matt, who was now leaning against the counter with his nose in a book, up in his arms, squeezing tightly. His boyfriend did nothing but smile knowingly, hugging him back tightly and rubbing small circles into his back, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he cried onto his shoulder.

They were just two broken minds.

But they were putting each other back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll tell you what, its been a long ass ride, but it's finally finished. broken minds, my fic, is completed. i started it so long ago, it feels like, and i really appreciate the love and support you guys have shown this fic. thank you so much for your support. 


End file.
